


Pour Some Sugar On Me

by Persephoneshadow



Series: Sing a Song of Sex Puns [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel POV, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sarcastic Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephoneshadow/pseuds/Persephoneshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you like to have sex again?”</p><p>The expression on Dean’s face is strangely reminiscent of when Castiel’s laptop (inherited from Sam) decides to freeze and shutdown for no reason. “Eh-e-excuse me?”</p><p>“Your actions in the last few days have been…contradictory,” Cas presses on. “You said what happened was a ‘one-time thing.’ You refuse to be in a room with me and won’t discuss what happened, yet you display physical indications of sexual interest which -”</p><p>“I WHAT?"</p><p>_______</p><p>Or: The one where breakfast food and sexual frustration get the best of everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Author's Note:**

> So, yes. The positive response to this series has been awesome and I hope you enjoy this installment. There's more bad songs titles and sexy times to come, so keep an eye out. Comments are always appreciated!

“Why do you own a waffle iron?” Castiel asks as Dean deposits a new plate of very appealing breakfast food in front of him.

“Wedding present,” Dean answers off-hand and for some reason it’s Sam that starts squirming nervously at the bunker's kitchen table table for once.

“It’s a long story,” Sam mutters, swiping the syrup.

“Well, I’m happy you have it. These are very good,” Castiel says through a mouthful. Dean gives him a smile from across the kitchen, green eyes glinting, and Castiel forgets how exasperated with the elder Winchester he had been before breakfast. For a few seconds things are normal; they’re just compatriots sharing a meal. No awkwardness. No lying through silence. No ever-growing store of frustration, sexual or otherwise. Castiel smiles back.

Dean finally joins them at the table with his own small mountain of food: bacon, eggs and waffles, covered in melting butter. Butter which Dean licks off his fingers. One by one. In a manner that only seems to make his lips look pinker and more inviting than usual. Dean sets into his stack of food with a, frankly, obscene sort of groan, and with a quick spike of lust Castiel remember _exactly_ why he’s annoyed with him.

“What’s with the Julia Child routine anyway?” Sam asks as Dean catches Castiel staring and blushes minutely. Castiel for his part turns his attention sullenly back to his own breakfast as Dean fumbles for an answer. Castiel will be curious to hear it.

“What routine?” Dean deflects. Going with feigned, oblivious bravado; interesting choice. “A man can’t make waffles if he wants?”

“Sure he can, but you’ve been cooking, like…a lot,” Sam explains.

“Sam is, right,” Castiel interjects, examining the perfectly golden bite of waffle at the end of his fork. “It’s coincided with your sudden deep interest in helping Sam with research and case tracking at almost all times.” The color drains out of Dean’s face as he turns to Castiel, who schools his face in a mask of innocence.

“Huh,” Sam exclaims. “Yeah. I guess you have been kinda weird since…”

Ignoring Dean’s silent prayers – the very clear one here being ‘stop talking’ – is much easier as a human. “Iowa,” Castiel finishes and Dean’s jaw twitches with tension. Yes. Easier and much more satisfying. “It’s been very curious.”

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Dean mutters, suddenly finding his breakfast extremely interesting.

Castiel lets it go. He doesn’t actually want to push the issue in front of Sam. That would be a shade too cruel and highly diminish the odds of Dean licking anything off of Castiel in the near future. He simply wanted Dean to know that he had indeed noticed Dean’s very obvious avoidance of him in the last few days. Judging by Dean’s sullen chewing, he is at least embarrassed at being found out. Or possibly frustrated. Sam doesn’t chose to push either, though there’s something knowing in his eyes that Castiel files away for further consideration later in the day, in between his anticipated bouts of being exasperated with Dean and desperately fantasizing about Dean’s mouth. Maybe sometime around four o’clock, then.

Castiel eats slowly, savoring the taste of the waffles (and of course the bacon with them). He’s the last to finish and is keenly aware that as soon as Sam moved to wash his dishes that Dean’s focus drifted to him. He perhaps intentionally takes a bit more time than necessary to savor the last few bites after noticing Dean’s eyes on his mouth, and he certainly very intentionally runs his finger through the last bits of syrup and licks it off his finger. Slowly. There may be some noise as well. Turnabout _is_ fair play, after all. Dean swallows audibly and leaves the table faster than usual and disappears from the kitchen.

“Glad I’m not the only one who’s noticed him acting weird,” Sam mutters, taking the last plates from the table. “You got any theories?”

“None worth sharing,” Castiel sighs. It’s not necessarily a lie.

The drive back from Iowa after he and Dean’s night together had been…tense. At least on Dean’s part. At the time Castiel hadn’t really understood the tight set of Dean’s shoulders and the twitching muscle at his jawline whenever he glanced in the rearview mirror. It had been clear at the hotel that Dean wanted to actively conceal what had happened from Sam, which Castiel had respected. But after they had returned to the bunker Dean had, through a series of hand gestures and sentence fragments, managed to convey that their sexual encounter need never be mentioned or thought of again, which was frankly confounding, given that Cas had thought Dean had enjoyed it as much as he had. However Dean’s admonition that “what happens in Iowa stays in Iowa,” (despite Castiel’s protests that he was sure the correct idiom involved Las Vegas) had been firm.

Except Castiel had never, in the short span of his mortal life, wanted anything more than to kiss and touch and do any number of debauched things to Dean again. That alone, Castiel might have been able to live with if it hadn’t been for two things. The first being that, now that he had experienced the reality of sex with Dean, masturbation (which had previously been a very pleasurable and worthwhile mortal pastime) was now as exercise in comparison and frustration. Dean’s constant…existence has done nothing to ease the need for it either. Which leads to the second sticking point: the fact that Dean’s actions make it seems as if he didn’t want things to stay in Las Vegas or Iowa or anywhere. He still looks at Castiel exactly the way Castiel feels he must look at Dean: with unchecked desire. It’s infuriating and confounding.

So Castiel does have theories about why Dean feels the need to deny himself something he wants, that surely he knows Castiel wants as well, but they all lead to questions that no one but Dean can answer, which feeds into the cycle of frustration that has been building for four days.

“You should try to talk to him,” Sam suggests, snapping Castiel out of his thoughts.

“I’m not sure he would be receptive,” Castiel mutters back.

Sam gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Hey, maybe he’ll surprise you,” Sam offers and Castiel sighs again. Dean’s ability to surprise him at the most inopportune times is entirely the problem. “I’ll go on a supply run or something, get out of your hair so you can chat without him bailing or whatever.”

“I’ll try,” Castiel says, rising from the table and trying not to be overly optimistic. “Though being able to find him would be helpful.”

“He’s been hiding out in the gym a lot lately, maybe try there?” Say suggests as they exit the kitchen. “Good luck with…” Sam pauses and gives Cas an appraising look. “Good luck.”

Castiel shakes his head at the odd moment and heads the opposite direction of Sam, which he hopes is the direction of the gym _that no one had mentioned_ when he moved into the bunker. Or prior to that. It’s not surprising, really; half the time the Winchesters forget they have a garage. Still, it’s annoying it wasn’t on the tour. Not that there was a tour.

It takes Castiel a good ten minutes to find the gym – which is tucked between the firing range and one of the myriad storerooms, of course. It’s not much really, just a few dusty sets of weights and punching bags, one of which Dean it setting into with extreme prejudice. It’s actually a fairly impressive spectacle, especially the view of Dean, who is wearing just a t-shirt and sweatpants, from behind as he circles the bag. Dean’s arms are almost as distracting as his ass, which is saying something, and Castiel admires both thoroughly, before remembering that being aroused by Dean is not optimal right now – in fact, it’s the problem.

Dean jumps when Castiel clears his throat to get his attention. “Jesus!” Dean pants, leaning against the punching bag, flushed and sweating and infuriatingly attractive. “How long have you been there?”

“A minute or so,” Castiel answers, staring unabashedly.

“Oh, great. Good to know the creeper things wasn’t attached to the wings,” Dean mutters and Castiel frowns. Dean looks away, catching his breath. “Look, Cas,” he goes on, fiddling with the tape wrapped around his fists. “I know I’ve been an asshole with the whole…avoiding thing, but I - ”

“Would you like to have sex again?”

The expression on Dean’s face is strangely reminiscent of when Castiel’s laptop (inherited from Sam) decides to freeze and shutdown for no reason. “Eh-e- _excuse me_?”

“Your actions in the last few days have been…contradictory,” Castiel presses on. “You said what happened was a ‘one-time thing.’ You refuse to be in a room with me and won’t discuss what happened, yet you display physical indications of sexual interest which -”

“I _what_?”

“- which is extremely disconcerting, not to mention frustrating,” he tells Dean whose expression shifts from confusion to offence. “And then this morning before breakfast I tried to confront you in the shower.” Dean’s expression is now one of horror. “And you very clearly were pleasuring yourself and I believe I heard you say my name which leads me to…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cas!” Dean exclaims with enough vehemence to stop Castiel. “You don’t just…that is not...there are some spaces, that are sacred, okay!?”

“I was an angel, Dean, and I can assure you that the host of heaven never imbued showers with any sacred significance,” Castiel informs him and does garner some pleasure from the fact Dean takes several moment to process that.

“You…that is…” Dean sputters. “Not the point, Cas!”

“Exactly,” Castiel nods while Dean stares at him open-mouthed. “The point is my earlier question: would you - ”

“I got the question!” Dean almost yells.

Castiel takes a deep breath, eyebrows raised in anticipation. “And?”

“Did you mean…now?” Dean asks, glancing worriedly towards the door.

“No, of course not,” Castiel replies sullenly. “I assume the possibility of being interrupted would be a deterrent, though Sam is away at the moment. And you’re perspiring which…actually, that’s not a problem. You look quite appealing.” It’s very easy to lose one’s train of thought as a human, Cas has discovered. He licks his lips automatically as he looks over Dean again and the other man grows more flustered. “Of course if you would be open to sex now, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I…” Dean is staring and seems to have temporarily lost his ability to form words. “Cas…I…I…” Dean’s mouth is open and moving but making no sound again. The sight is actually almost obscene in its attractiveness. Castiel sighs. He doesn’t know how much more lust he can manage to transmute into frustration and annoyance before he goes mad with it. He takes a few steps closer to Dean who tenses at the movement but doesn’t retreat.

“Did I fail in some way?” Castiel asks quietly, the worry that has been bubbling underneath the desire and exasperation breaking to the fore.

“Fail?” Dean echoes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“In our previous encounter. I know I lack…experience,” Castiel mutters, trying to look at the floor and getting sidetracked by the sight of Dean’s hands and hips before that. “But I assure you I have done research and there are many things I’m happy to do or try, perhaps with instruction, if that -”

“Hey, hey.” Castiel stops talking, not because Dean interrupted but because for the first time in _days_ Dean is touching him. Simply his hand on Castiel’s arm is enough to unwind the massive knot of tension that has been growing since Iowa. Cas closes his eyes, just to savor the small contact: the warmth and steadiness and intimacy of it. “You didn’t mess up, seriously.” There’s still a tremor in Dean’s voice and when Castiel chances a glance at his face again, the other’s man’s gaze has darkened with want. “That’s sort of the problem.”

Castiel furrows his brow in confusion, though his focus is torn between Dean’s typically bewildering words and the fact that Dean’s hand on his arm has not moved. In fact, his thumb is making small circles against the material of Cas’s shirt. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t fucking be in the same room with you because when I am, all I can think about is which surface I’d like to shove you against to kiss you,” Dean confesses softly. “And that’s a problem.”

“But that’s a yes?” Castiel asks back, his heart suddenly beating much harder. “You would be open to further sexual relations?”

Dean shakes his head, half-smiling. “God, you are either the worst dirty talker in the world or the best,” Dean sighs. “Yeah, I just -”

Castiel had not been planning on grabbing Dean and kissing him and so it’s almost as much of a surprise to him when he does it as it seems to be to Dean. Just like the first time he kissed Dean on the street in Iowa, there is only a moment of hesitation before Dean kisses him back. And, just like the first time, it’s glorious. There’s no use comparing kissing Dean to the limited experience Castiel has had with others. That would be like comparing a penlight to the sun. It’s so much more than just the plush feel of Dean’s lips against his or the scrape of his thumb over Castiel’s jaw; it’s the way it electrifies the world, how even though his eyes are closed Castiel can see nothing but light and color when it’s happening.

They bump into the punching bag as they push and pull each other, and Dean gives a small ‘ooph’ as he runs into a rack of weights before Castiel gets him against the wall. He’s getting carried away already, one hand threading into Dean’s damp hair and another finding Dean’s hip. It’s strange to have missed something as simple as the touch of skin, even when it has only been a few days since last feeling it, but humanity has been full of surprises. He also never expected after his first brush with humanity, full of cold and discomfort and pain, that anything could ever be as welcoming or warm as Dean's mouth and body. And yet. Castiel’s tongue darts out and he can taste lingering sweetness on Dean’s lips. It’s a contrast to the salt of Dean’s skin as Castiel kisses over his jaw and throat. His mouth brushes over one of the marks left from Iowa, barely visible now.

“I didn’t like watching this fade,” he tells Dean, drawing back slightly. “Or the ones you left on me.” Dean doesn’t really respond in words, rather he pulls Cas back into another hungry kiss and spreads his legs so that Cas can slip his own leg in-between them. Sweatpants are wonderful invention, really; comfortable and loose enough for Cas to feel Dean hardening against his thigh.

“Holy crap,” Dean pants as Castiel moves his attention back to his throat. “See, this is why us being alone is a bad idea.”

Castiel rolls his body against Dean, sending a delicious wave of pleasure up from his groin (and Dean’s as well if the other man’s groan is any indication). “Do you want to stop?” Cas asks, not pausing at all.

“Did you say Sam was out?” Dean asks breathlessly, his hands sliding up and down Castiel’s back.

“I did.”

“Then fuck no.”

Castiel can’t help but smile into a kiss as Dean’s hands slip under his t-shirt, rough and warm against his bare skin. Dean’s nails rake over Castiel’s back, making him arch further into Dean. Their breathing has already grown rough and fast, and Castiel is terribly close to simply rutting against Dean until he comes without regard for niceties. Castiel is however aware that would be rather unfair to Dean. “You’re very good at this,” Castiel murmurs into Dean’s hair, his own hand teasing at the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants.

“Practice makes perfect, I guess,” Dean chuckles and Cas stops still. “Hey, you okay?” Dean asks, inclining his head toward Cas curiously.

“I don’t have the advantage of practice,” Cas confesses, his face heating for an entirely new reason.

“You’re doing awesome, really,” Dean says and Cas smiles against his will at the breathless sincerity of the words. “And, you know, if there’s anything you want to, uh, learn or try…”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay. Guess you’ve thought about this-”

“Of course. I have a list.”

“You…” Dean blinks and raises his eyebrows, which is usually an indication that Castiel has said something outside the expected norms of conversation, but that’s really not a concern at the moment. “And what’s at the, uh, top right now?” Dean asks, somewhat hesitantly, squirming a bit and reminding Castiel of the dual erections wedged between them.

“Oral sex.” Castiel’s answer earns a long blink and a swallow from Dean. “Fellatio, specifically. I’m more interested in performing it on you but I think it might be helpful if you were to–”

“Yeah, yeah, Cas, I get it,” Dean cuts him off, licking his lips as his gaze falls to Castiel’s mouth. The action serves only to make Castiel’s heart pound faster as a new wave of desire fills him. He doesn’t give any resistance as Dean pushes against him and flips their positions, yet the movement still makes him dizzy and happy to have the wall against his back. Dean kisses him softly over his mouth, jaw and neck until his lips are at Castiel’s ear. “Good thing you’re working with a professional here.”

Castiel tells himself he’s going to ask about that, among other things, later. Later, when Dean is not nipping at his neck and provoking him into small gasps and moans as he slides himself down Cas’s body.  There’s a twinge of conflict within Castiel, between the desire to savor and lavish in every moment and sensation and the relentless need to feel everything this very instant. He wants to appreciate the particular texture and pressure of Dean’s hands on his abdomen and hips as he rucks up Castiel’s t-shirt and mouths at the sensitive skin he reveals, but he also appreciates the desperate speed with which Dean sets to undoing Castiel’s jeans and freeing his achingly hard cock. There’s a second of relief and cool air and then there’s nothing but Dean’s mouth.

Castiel moans in earnest, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the wall as Dean alternates licking and sucking up and down his length, his hands pressed gently on Cas’s hips. Cas wants to catalog and study the actions and feelings but it’s entirely too much sensation. Already he feels tension coiling and building at his core, roiling just under his skin as Dean continues his ministrations. Dean changes angles and teasingly flicks his tongue over the head of Cas’s cock. Cas’s hips move without permission but Dean holds him steadily in place, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Castiel’s skin.

“Like the way you taste too,” Dean murmurs and Castiel’s hands contract into fists against the wall as Dean takes him in his mouth again. Dean licks and sucks, taking more of Cas in by tortuously slow increments. Cas is panting, trying desperately to hold himself at bay as the warm, wet feel of Dean’s perfect mouth and lips overtakes all his senses. He doesn’t even notice Dean’s hands have moved from his hips until he feels Dean guiding Castiel’s own hands to Dean’s slowly bobbing head. Hesitantly, Castiel threads his fingers into Dean’s hair which earns an encouraging grunt from Dean. Cas echoes the sound as the vibrations send another wave of pleasure through him. He’s shaking, on the precipice, craving satisfaction that has been elusive for what seems like ages. He feels himself trembling as it builds at the base of his spine, his whole body tense and tight as Dean hums around his cock.

“Dean, I –” Castiel gasps, attempting a warning, but before he can get out another word Dean seizes the base of Cas’s cock with a tight fist, holding him back from climax. “Fuck!” Castiel cries, shocked and annoyed and driven wild all at the same time. The sensation of Dean chuckling against him is infuriating and insanely good. Castiel manages to open his eyes just in time to catch Dean’s indecent grin as he pulls off.

“That’s for breakfast,” Dean tells him, stroking Castiel slowly with his hand. Castiel narrows his eyes, trying to focus on forming words. All the he manages is a grunt as he tugs Dean back towards him by the hair, earning what sounds like a sigh of pleasure from the other man. Castiel doesn’t have time to think about it because Dean is on him again, releasing his hand and then taking Castiel almost completely into his mouth. Cas cries out, surrounded in heat and overcome by sensation as Dean swallows and sucks, doing something with his tongue and throat that Cas can barely understand or withstand. Cas gives no warning this time, but Dean must have felt the signs; he pulls off and Cas’s eyes go wide as he comes, spilling over Dean’s lips and face with a trembling sigh.

Cas slumps back against the wall, his hands falling from Dean’s hair to his shoulders as he catches his breath. It occurs to him that he should probably apologize for making a mess on Dean’s face but the site of Dean flicking out his tongue to take a tentative taste is far too distracting. As is Dean’s self-satisfied grin up at Cas. “I’m guessing you liked that?”

“Very…much…” Cas pants. Without thinking he trails his thumb over Dean’s cheek, smearing his own seed against Dean’s skin before pushing it into Dean’s mouth. It’s possibly the most obscene sight Castiel has ever observed, as well as the most beautiful. Dean’s already flushed skin goes one more shade redder as he stares up at Cas. He blinks, as if he’s just waking up and looks away then fumbles with his t-shirt. He swabs his face with the shirt as he pulls it off, throwing it in a corner when he’s done. Dean’s bare chest acts upon Castiel like both a splash of cold water shocking him out of his stupor and a magnet pulling Castiel towards him.

Dean doesn’t protest at all as Cas sets upon him, laying him out on the ancient padding on the floor of the gym. Cas catches a taste of himself on Dean’s lips as he kisses him, but he’s more interested in the rest of Dean’s body. He lets his teeth graze against Dean’s collarbone, sucks a mark onto Dean’s chest inches from his nipple, kisses and licks at heated skin, all the while never letting his hands or body stop moving over the man beneath him. The sound Dean makes when Castiel finally pushes away his sweatpants - freeing his cock to bob up and graze Cas’s cheek – is close to music. It’s more than enough to encourage Cas to take his first, tentative lick. Dean gives another small sigh, and Cas slips his lips around the flushed head. The taste is more bitter than Cas expected, but not unpleasant at all. He licks again and experiments with moving his head at the same time.

“Fuck…” Dean sighs. Another positive reaction. Good. Cas tightens his lips around Dean’s girth and moves again and the reaction (a breathless moan and a buck of Dean’s hips) is similarly encouraging. Cas finishes pulling off Dean’s sweats and settles himself between the other man’s splayed legs and sets into his task in earnest.

Cas takes his time with things, noting how Dean squirms when he lightly laps up a bead of precome, how he stills when Cas sucks harder, how he yelps when Cas makes the mistake of letting his teeth graze the underside of Dean’s cock, and how Dean nearly chokes Cas by thrusting too deep into his mouth when Cas uses his hands on Dean’s balls and perineum. Cas ignores Dean’s gasped apology and pulls back, glad to have confirmed something. Dean guides Cas head back, his breath fast and his thighs trembling above Cas’s shoulders.

“Jesusfuckinghellfuck,” Dean mutters as Cas continues, his lips again tight on Dean’s dick, taking in as much of him as he can and his fist covering up the rest and moving in tandem with Cas’s head. “Yeah, Cas, like that. Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Cas takes Dean, incrementally deeper, sucking and licking fast until Dean cries out. Cas doesn’t pull away, he takes in every detail as Dean comes, his cock twitching and spurting into Castiel’s waiting mouth. The taste is more intense this way, but no less enjoyable to Cas. He pulls off slowly, licking up every drop as Dean softens. Dean is staring down at him agape, face flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Holy shit, man,” Dean breathes out. “I didn’t expect you to…on your first try. I mean I’m sorry I didn’t warn you but…holy shit.”

“Swallowing makes for more efficient clean up,” Cas tells, trying to keep a straight face and Dean’s eyes go even wider.

“Efficient…what…” Cas can’t hold back his smirk and Dean frowns. “You fucker.”

“Not yet. Technically,” Cas shrugs and Dean sits up quickly, an entire silent conversation of expressions flying over his face. “Though, I do hope to change that.”

“I’ve created a fucking monster,” Dean mutters and Cas raises an eyebrow. “Damnit, do _not_ say it.”

“I obviously don’t have to,” Cas smiles, settling back on his heels and handing Dean his pants. The other man takes them and actually turns away from Cas to pull them back on, though the time for modesty would seem to have passed long ago.

“Was that satisfactory?” Cas asks, nervous that maybe Dean’s sudden need to avoid eye contact is due to a failure in his performance.

“Are you kidding?” Dean scoffs, turning back and offering Cas a hand to pull him up from the floor. Cas shakes his head and Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Cas, it was more than satisfactory. I might actually go with awesome.”

“Good,” Cas smiles. Dean shakes his head wearily but gives him a crooked smile in return. “I’m glad we were able to clarify things.”

“Yeah, uh, me too, I guess…” Dean replies with a small laugh.

“I’ll leave you to the rest of your workout then,” Cas says with a nod, righting his own pants. He does catch the sudden look of bewilderment on Dean’s face as before he turns and exits the gym. He’s not sure how to otherwise end the encounter, but taking some time to simply relax and enjoy the memories and sounds pleasant. Dean mutters something as the door close which Cas can’t make out beyond the sentence containing the word ‘fuck.’

For the first time in days, Cas retreats to the library with a smile.

 

 

The soft ping of a new text message is the last thing Cas expects to hear as he gets ready to settle down for the night (he hadn’t decided on a book or Netflix yet). The fact that the message seems to be from Dean, who is, as far as Cas knows, a few rooms away is even more unexpected.

**_> > _u still up?**

Cas frowns in confusion, typing his response quickly,

**< < Yes. Why?**

**> > my room. 5 min.**

Castiel’s frown deepens. He’s not sure what Dean would need to say that couldn’t have been conveyed over dinner or after, or even by him coming to Castiel’s room. As far as he can recall he hasn’t done anything inflammatory or possibly awkward. The only even slightly tense moment since the very pleasurable encounter with Dean in the gym had been Sam commenting over dinner (take out Chinese) that it was good that he and Dean had worked things out. Dean had given Cas a confused and nervous look but Cas has simply smiled and nodded at Sam and that had been the end of it. However it is possible he has made some error he’s unaware, as has happened in the past.

He waits four minutes and thirty seconds before heading to Dean’s room as instructed, allowing for thirty seconds of travel time. The door opens before he can even knock and Dean pulls him in after a brief glance in both directions down the hall.

“Dean, what is going on?” Castiel asks as Dean shuts the door behind him. “Are you – ”

“I wasn’t totally honest earlier,” Dean cuts him off.

“What are you - ”

“About the BJ. It was satisfactory, yeah, but…I dunno, man, I gotta take back the awesome,” Dean tells him. Cas narrows his eyes, assessing the hunter for a sign that this is some sort of joke Cas has yet to understand. “I mean, it was pretty good for a first try. I give you a solid six, maybe seven out of ten.”

“Six?” Cas asks back, surprised that he’s as offended as he is. Human emotions are at time a very annoying adventure.

“Or seven,” Dean shrugs.

“And you felt the need to tell me this now.” Cas advances on Dean, who seems unfazed by his proximity. “In your room.”

“Well, the standard-issue bunker mattresses are shit and I’ve got a good one.”

“What does my mattress have to do with - ” Cas stops himself as a grin spreads over Dean’s face. “ _Oh_.”

“Take off your pants.”

 

 

“You are a fast goddamn study,” Dean sighs, falling back on the bed. Castiel smiles as he wipes his mouth and glances at where his clothes are strewn about the room. He very much does not want to think about gathering them up to return to his own bed, but he's not sure of how to broach such a request. He sits on the end of the bed instead, enjoying the warm post-orgasmic glow that still lingers from Dean's extremely thorough second lesson of the day.

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs, his attention momentarily drawn to the new mark Dean has left between his ribs.

“Had to keep it somewhere Sam wouldn’t see,” Dean offers, noting where Cas is looking.

“Why are you so worried about Sam finding out?” Cas asks, attention returning to Dean, who is laid out on the bed, draped in a sheet and looking more beautiful than most art Cas has ever seen.

“Are you serious?” Castiel stares Dean down for a second in annoyance. “Of course you are. Listen, man, I just…If Sammy finds out we’re – whatever this is – he’s gonna wanna talk about what this means or feeling and some crap.”

“And you don’t want to address that,” Cas confirms more than asks. He can see the tension rising in Dean’s whole body at just the thought.

“I mean, things are already different enough with the whole human forever thing,” Dean explains, gesturing vaguely toward Cas, who winces minutely at the reminder. “And he’s gonna think we’re gonna start, I don’t know, holding hands or something or – ”

“Dean, I don’t see why anything else between us needs to change,” Cas tells Dean honestly.

“You don’t?” Dean seems truly incredulous, though also relieved at the prospect.

“This is an addition to our relation, not something that needs to redefine it,” Cas explain. “And a quite pleasurable one at that. However if you feel the need to keep it private from Sam and not talk about anything that’s acceptable.”

“Um, okay,” Dean replies, blinking slowly.

“I should probably let you sleep,” Cas says without conviction, rising from the bed.

“You’re leaving?”

“I assumed, given your…preference for discretion, that it would be better to leave now,” Cas explains, avoiding eye contact for a reason he can’t quite understand. He turns at the brush of finger tips at his elbow.

“Sam takes his stupid-ass run every morning at 6:30,” Dean tells him, his voice quieter than it needs to be.

Cas holds eye contact with him for a long moment, very much missing being able to hear prayers or thoughts. “You want me to stay?”

“Come morning we can see about getting you up to a solid nine,” Dean answers with a smirk. Cas glowers at him but does not resist as Dean pulls him down and situates them under the sheets. They settle together, finding comfortable positions after Dean switches of the beside lamp.

Cas likes this, though he probably does not need to tell Dean that. He likes the scent and the warmth and the feel of Dean’s skin and the slow rhythm of his breath. It’s a much more pleasant way to fall asleep than alone in his own room, staring at the ceiling and wondering what Dean is doing at that moment. It occurs to Castiel that between an exemplary breakfast, several orgasms between the two of them, and a productive afternoon and evening it has been a very good day. Perhaps one of the better days of his human life. The though makes him smile.

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“When I make it to ten, I think you should make more waffles.”

Dean chuckles and pulls Cas closer as he drifts to sleep.

 


End file.
